Kitten
by Before Ever-After
Summary: Like fate, the pair had been brought together, in an environment that was the unlikeliest of places. Alex/Ben
1. Chapter 1

**So, prior word of warning - forget scenes of sexual nature, this is essentially one long scene of nothing but a sexual nature. Urgh, I feel so dirty.**

**Disclaimer: Well, pretty sure this is well out of the lines of anything Anthony Horowitz wrote. So yeah, obviously not mine. **

There is a flurry of movement, and then calloused hands are running the length of his arms, fingers dragging over his biceps, and resting on his shoulders. He pauses, exhaling, and then drawing in breath again, before the hands move, cold on his chest now, pushing him back against the wall, nails biting into the skin. The hands move so that they are either side of his head, as a body, warm and solid, presses up against his.

For a moment, he panics, as he always does when trapped, but just as quickly, he relaxes, smiling lazily at the man whose embrace he is in. This is an attack, but one of a different kind, pressed up against a filthy wall with your belt undone, and your zipper as low as you can force it, the beat of the music rocking through the both of you, setting a rhythm for your ministrations. It is the only kind of attack that he seeks out now, ignoring the niggling guilt that reminds him of Sabina, at home, waiting for him.

The stranger moves, and he forgets about her, and propriety, and everything outside of him and this man, stubble rough against his as their mouths move against each other. He gasps when teeth bite against his lip, the man taking advantage of his open mouth, tongues added to the mix, as they press closer together. He moves his own arms, which have, until now, been hanging rather loosely by his side, so that they are wrapped around this man, urging his body as close as they can make it. Without knowing how it happened, his pants are undone, and he begins to mewl as the rest of him follows.

There is the barest of chuckles, as their mouths are disentangled, the scape of stubble against his cheek, and then there is the voice in his ear. "Should have called you Kitten," startled, blue eyes widen, not only at the nickname, but the softly breathed "Cub" that followed it. As the stranger's head moves again, into his line of vision, he picks out the familiar angles of a face he'd tried to forget years ago, a face that had hovered in his mind as he writhed, panting heavily between the sheets, only slightly guilty in the knowledge that he should be fantasizing about a girl.

He can feel his face begin to heat up, and panic floods him once again, as he comes to terms with the fact that the man he's wrapped around, the man who has his hand down his pants, was the first man that he'd ever wanted. Briefly, irrationally, he considers pulling away, melting back into the crowd, and trying to forget that he'd finally gotten the man under the least romantic, or acceptable of standards. He thinks of tracking him down again, after he's broken things off with Sabina for good, and doing it properly. Perhaps the man knows this though, because all of his planning is forgotten when he feels the sucking on his pulse point, teeth grazing the tender skin as he arches slightly, pulling the other to him once again. His eyes are only half open, fingers scratching gently at a broad back, and his voice strained as he replies, "Fuck you, Fox."

The man laughs against his neck, the feeling vibrating through his body, and he knows his words have backfired on him. That was the plan all along, after all, one that they were both after, before Alex even knew who he was, and it's a plan they'll both follow to the finish.

**So, and this is a little sad to admit, but this basically began as my attempt at writing fluff, because all I had in my head was the Kitten line. And instead, I got this wank fest. Which... I dunno about xD But let me know what you think! And also if you'd like me to try extend it into some sort of plot, or just leave it as a stand-alone **


	2. Chapter 2

It is the sunlight that wakes him, warm and bright as it plays across his face, retinas seeing only a bright red, and instinct alerting his sleep addled mind to the fact that this is Sabina's side of the bed, and they never, ever swap. Not even if they are sick, or injured, either of which Alex is certainly not. In fact, the man has never felt more alive, veins thrumming with more energy than even adrenelin had ever given him.

Despite this, however, he comes to slowly, the warmth of the room inviting sleep, and the deep, slightly bitter scent of a men's cologne that has been the centre of so many of his fantasises fills the air, assuring him that this is simply one of them. The arm on his waist tells differently however, more tan, thicker, and more densely muscled than his girlfriend's carrying enough strength that Alex is sure that were he to struggle, he'd be effectively trapped. For a moment, the idea is considered, but then he has remembered the night in full before his instincts can force him to do something he'd regret. Instead, he stretches, running his feet the length of ropey calves that had been rid of the dark denim the night before, and are now pressed flush against his equally bare ones.

The man beside him stirs, the only indication that Alex has of this occurrence the slight tightening on his waist, and a hitch in breath that moments ago had been slow and modulated. The broad, slightly hairy chest presses harder against his back, as does one pelvis against another, the man's movements smothered by silken sheets, but his intentions clear, lips barely more than pressed against his bare neck, before Alex moves, taking in the face of a man he has always considered to be startlingly beautiful, even though he is all hard angles, and rough stubble.

The grip on his waist, which had been already loose enough for Alex to wiggle around under, loosens further, before it is gone, the man missing its warmth, and then welcoming it as the same hand pushes against his shoulder, so that Alex's back is flat against silk, and that he is being straddled by a man that, at age fourteen, he'd been sure he'd never have. A man at fifteen, he'd tried to forget, passionately declaring false emotion to Sabina, who reciprocated with _real_ emotion. A man that, until last night, had been sure he'd never see again, but was now on _top_ of him, large, calloused hands traversing a plane of scars, and sunken skin, following the dips and valleys with the intention of someone trying to memorise them.

Alex tries to let him have this, have him in this complete, and _intimate_ way that is shared by lovers, not one night stands, but he is impatient, and barely any time has passed before his is lurching up, pulling the man towards him, their lips finding each other with the ease that surprises the both of them. When hands roam over his body now, it has a completely different meaning, and it is one that he reciprocates, acknowledging that this body is just as hard, and just as scarred as his own, with continuity that women, with rising peaks, and fatty curves lack. It is a comparison that the man here wins hands down, but it is also one that reminds Alex as to who he _is_, and not just who he _wants_ to be.

As suddenly as he initiated it, Alex breaks away, disgusted at himself for being the kind of person he'd always sworn he wouldn't be. A rat. A cheat. A _bastard__**. **_No matter how much he has wanted this, wanted _him_ what he has done is completely inexcusable. "Sabina." His hands as they push, this time, are not doing so out of passion, or any positive emotion, but the need to get away from what he has done, and the person that he knows he has no chance of being. "_Fuck_, Ben, just fucking let _go_!" The other rolls from him, too late to hide the hurt on his face, and even though it only makes Alex feel even more guilty, he wastes no time in leaving the soft embrace of silken sheets, and the heavy pull of lust, searching the room for his clothes, intermingled with Ben's and so crumpled that Sabina is unlikely to believe anything he says to her.

Jeans have been pulled over hips, and trembling fingers are working the button when Ben is behind him again, arms wrapping around a thin, toned waist, breath hot against his ear as he whispers, "Hey, Cub, Kitten, _Alex_, it's _okay_. Whatever it is, we can work it out." His hands freeze against the cool metal of his button, rapidly heating under his grip, before brushing slightly against rough denim, as Alex moves to extricate himself from Ben's grip, shaggy, slightly overlong hair falling in his face. He is strong, but Ben is stronger, and his arms stay there, as Alex does nothing by grow mad, hating himself even more, now, for having to explain the situation he has put them all into.

"I… have a girlfriend, Ben." The words feel flat, and hollow, coming from his mouth, Alex wishing that it wasn't the truth, and that he'd met the man, once again, under circumstances that had been favourable for the pair of them; that wouldn't reduce Alex to a horrible person, both in the eyes of his girlfriend, and the man that he wished he could have for more than just one night. He can feel Ben stiffen, although he still holds Alex in his arms, and there is a pregnant pause before the man speaks again, a whispered, "Dump her," to which Alex can only shake his head at. "I've been with her for _eight years_," his voice is broken as he replies, the enormity of what he's done considering to settle on his shoulders, and the contentment he'd allowed himself to settle with now feeling like a manacle around his ankle, "I'm going to _marry_ her." Not because he loved her, although he did, in the way that he'd loved Jack, but because of what he owed her; she'd helped him, in her own way, back onto his feet all those years ago, and she'd stood by him since they were _fifteen_. They _lived_ together now, she, studying psychology, and Alex human movement, and one day, he was sure, they'd have children, whom he would shelter from the world he'd been forced to grow up in.

At least, he _had_ been sure of all of that, before Ben had reappeared into his life, and made his fantasies a reality, and now a damn _nightmare_, arms finally unwrapping themselves from his waist, his own fingers moving to button his jeans as he spun around, forcing himself to make eye contact, no matter how ashamed he was. "I'm _sorry, _Ben." The hurt in the man's eyes was a horrible thing to look at, Alex knowing that he'd cut him down in the worst way possible, and with no way to tell him that _he_ was hurting just as much. "I… I have to go."

This time, when he pulls away from the man, pale gaze sweeping over the room until he's found his shirt, and his shoes, and his watch, Ben doesn't grab for him again, but instead watches, almost wooden, and avoiding Alex's gaze almost as studiously as he is Ben's. It is not until he's at the door that he hears the, "Wait," and that he turns around, wondering if Ben is going to punch him, or just cry, and instead utterly surprised when what he hear is, "Tulip Jones sent me here to collect you, Alex. You're back on the grid."

**So… this story changed direction on me, like, in a few moments, because it originally wasn't going to be a mission fic, but apparently Ben and Alex think differently.**

**Anyway, reviews are greatly appreciated – whether con crit, telling me your favourite lines, or just letting me know you're reading! **

**And, while we wait for the next chapter;**

**-Will Alex tell Sabina? Should he? Will she find out through other means?**

**-Is Ben an arse, or was this as unplanned on his end as Alex's?**


	3. Chapter 3

Alex had stormed out of Ben's flat, shirt still not quite properly buttoned, shoulders hunched so that the broad expense of his back was even more exposed to the sun than usual. While he'd awoken feeling like shit, the events of the past few minutes had made him feel even worse; not only was he a cheater, but the cheated, both a user and the used. Either one, as a stand alone emotion would be horrible to deal with, but together they were impossible, Alex's mind still torn between Ben and Sabina, between being a liar, or a spy, and no longer sure what was worse. All he knew was that last night, although not outright, Ben himself had lied to him, exposed his thoughts so that he was laid bare in front of him, childish fantasies, made dirty and corrupted. Not only that, but Alex felt, even through the events of the previous night unwanted, attraction used as a tool, rather than a legitimate reciprocation.

He is so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn't hear him until there is a hand on his shoulder, and it was too late for Alex to spin around, or let himself fall back into a well practice stance, or do a anything but grab desperately at the hand, sinking his teeth into it, hard enough that after only a few moments he can feel the coppery taste of blood sliding over his tongue, "Fuck!" He recognizes the voice, one that he has only just left staring sadly at him, and he turns, glaring at the man. "Fuck off," his voice is deep with all the harsh reverberations of a growl, the man slowly stepping back, not sure why the hell it was that Ben had followed him out in the first place when he so obviously hadn't cared about him only minutes ago.

Fingers grasp at his upper arm, short, bitten nails digging into the expanse of muscle that Alex had continued to actively cultivate, although he'd had no reason to. Last night, it would have elicted excitement from the man, but now, in the light of day, it only served to deepen the frown on his face, Alex shaking his arm, but unable to displace the grip, and not stupid enough to try and start a fight that he knows he has no hope of winning. "What do you want?" It is hissed through clenched teeth, muscles tense, something that he is sure Ben knows. It means that Ben will also know that this is a sign that he is in control, which is the very last thing that Alex wants to give him right now.

Ben gives no indication that he is aware of this substantial shift in power, and that only pisses him off more. If Ben had smirked, had given any indication that it was power that he wanted, then Alex would have felt justified in continuing to struggle against him, but instead, all he feels is as if there is something important coming his way. Something that Alex doubts that he wants to hear, but suspect that he has no choice but to. He watches Ben, trying to school his face so that it similarly void of emotion, but it is a mask that is weak, and shaky, and that falls the moment Ben speaks again, "I'll tell her Alex," his voice is quiet, and Ben is moving forwards, Alex stilling once again, because he knows both, what Ben is talking about, and what he has to do to make it go away. It doesn't stop Ben from continuing however, each word like a knife in Alex's chest as he realists exactly what he has done, "Either you come with me, on this mission, or I'll tell Sabina."

As still as he'd been before, his body is this time fluid, Alex struggling to keep himself upright, legs suddenly threatening to give out from beneath him, and the man feeling like he'd been socked in the stomach. Nothing had changed. Alex was still a pawn to M16, even though he lived on the other side of the world, and even though, for the majority of a decade now, he had been free of their grasp. He was still their little pawn, to pull into line and direct to battle whenever it was that 'The Man' considered him needed. He is held up purely by the strength of Ben's grip on his arm, as he lets his mind work through what should have been glaringly obvious to him, if not from the moment he clapped eyes on the ex-SAS soldier, then from the moment that he'd heard there was a mission. With his name on it.

After what seems like an eternity to Alex, but is likely to be less than a minute in total, he manages to rip his gaze up towards the other man, all illusions shattered. "I lose her anyway," voice is broken, whispery, and haggard, Alex's world having crashed down around his ears in an instant, his only choice now whether his girlfriend should know that he was a cheater, or that being a spy was more important than loving her. And at the end of the day, it wasn't really a decision at all.

"When do we leave?"

**So, this was short, and not really my best writing, but it was a necessary chapter to make, and the plot should thicken in the next chapter or so. Which I hope that won't take half as long as this last one. **

**Let me know what you think!**


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